Citizen's Arrest
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Jean takes matters into her own hands.


**Citizen's Arrest**

She hummed when she dusted. Lucien had noticed it about her before, of course. They'd lived together long enough, and he'd learned to pay attention somewhere along the way. It was rare that she would allow him to just watch her work—she got annoyed at the way he stared, claimed it was distracting.

But he heard the faint sounds of her lovely voice from his study, and Lucien quietly went to investigate. He found her in the parlor, dusting and swaying her hips in time to the tune she was humming. He watched her with a soft smile.

Jean turned and nearly jumped out of her skin. "Lucien!" she shrieked. "You cannot sneak up on me like that!"

He just laughed. "I am sorry. But I do like watching you work. And I love hearing you sing."

"I wasn't singing," she muttered, trying to hide her blush.

"Alright, humming. I like your humming. I like everything about you."

Jean sighed, looking back at him with a reluctant smile. "That's a lovely thing to say."

"But I do wish you'd sing more."

She rolled her eyes. "Later. I have work to do, thank you very much."

But Lucien would not be dissuaded so easily. With lightning quick speed, he snatched the feather duster out of her hand. Jean reached to grab it back, but he held it up high above his head. His height and arm length put the feather duster far out of her reach. "Sing me something and I'll give it back," he taunted.

Jean's brow furrowed in frustration. She didn't want to let him have his way. She nearly tried to jump to try to reach, but that would have been undignified and useless. "Lucien…" she warned.

"Oh come on, Jeanie, just one little song. Please?"

She pursed her lips. "This could be considered theft, you know. I've been talking with Matthew more often about police work."

"And you're going to press charges against me, are you?"

Her mouth spread into a smirk. "I think I might have to perform a citizen's arrest."

"Go on, then," he challenged. He knew that look in her eye. Things were about to get very interesting.

"The way I see it," Jean began, standing up tall and putting her hands on her hips, "is you can give me back my feather duster and we can put this all behind us, or I'll have to take things into my own hands."

Bringing the feather duster down to rest behind his neck, Lucien leaned in and whispered, "I'm afraid, Mrs. Blake, that I won't come quietly."

"No, you never do," she quipped.

His eyes went wide and sparkled with mirth at her innuendo. "Jean!"

She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. And her hands went right to his belt, unbuckling it before he realized what she was doing.

The feather duster fell to the ground, utterly ignored by them both. Lucien was frozen in place, shocked at her brazen behavior. She had always been eager, yes, but this was much more than that. "My god, Jean," he breathed as she pulled his shirttails from his trousers and going to work on the buttons.

"If you keep quiet, I'll make it worth your while," she offered.

"I'll do my best, love, but you are the one who pointed out that I never can seem to…come quietly."

She stifled her giggles and said, "Hush!" She effectively silenced him with a searing kiss. Jean turned them and pushed him against the wall, hard, jolting them out of the kiss.

"I'm your prisoner," he whispered, gazing at her with love in his eyes.

"What sort of prisoner roams free?" she asked with a quirk of her eyebrow. She considered for a moment and made her decision. "On the sofa," she commanded.

He did as he was told, sitting and watching, waiting quietly.

Jean pulled his shoes and socks off his feet, the action reminding her of the number of times her husband had removed her shoes and stockings and taken great pleasure in baring her legs to him. But Jean had a different goal in mind. She yanked his trousers off him and took the belt from the loops. "Hands," she ordered.

Lucien held his hands out to her. She wrapped the belt around his wrists as makeshift handcuffs. He watched her with wide eyes. Nothing about this was anything like what they'd normally done. The way she wielded her power over him was extremely erotic. He was glad she'd already removed his trousers. They would have been uncomfortably tight by now. As it was, his pants chaffed against his hardness in the most torturous manner.

Glancing down at the tented fabric in his lap, Jean smiled to herself, proud of her effect on him. "Arms up!" It was quite fun to bark orders at him like this. When his arms were above his head, she pulled his pants off him, leaving them around his ankles. She hiked up her own skirt and shimmied out of her underthings. She noticed Lucien lick his lips in aroused anticipation. Perfect.

Jean straddled his lap, allowing his constrained arms to encircle her. She bucked her hips, gyrating and rubbing against him. "Oh god, Jean," he groaned.

"You're supposed to be quiet," she whispered, biting his ear for good measure.

He whimpered, trying in vain to not make another sound.

With a satisfied nod, Jean sat up on her knees, reached down to grasp him, and lowered herself onto him in a single swift motion. She had been controlled up till then, but she was aching with her desire for him, desperate for him to fill her. Lucien moaned at the unexpected sensation. "Fuck!" he swore.

Jean was about to start to ride him, but stopped herself. She remained still and stared at him. "You'll be punished for every sound," she told him.

He strained to thrust into her, but she gripped his hips with her knees, preventing movement.

"You'll come quietly?'

Lucien nodded. He was nearly in pain now.

Jean began to move on him, letting him slide in and out of her. Even if he did make noise, she wasn't about to stop now. She kissed him to keep him as silent as he could manage. It was messy and sloppy, as though they were drunk on each other. His tongue traced her lips. She nipped at his bearded chin. All the while, she rode him, grateful for the sofa cushions under her knees. She could feel him twitch and jerk inside her, reaching his climax. Jean leaned forward and thrust hard and fast twice more until she could find her release as well. She was so overwhelmed by the orgasm that overtook her that she didn't even notice the roar that erupted from Lucien.

They collapsed against each other, sweaty and spent. Jean couldn't believe she still had all her clothes on. She'd have to go straight to take a bath now. Once she could move.

"I have never enjoyed being a prisoner before now. But I'll gladly have you as my warden anytime," he murmured.

The words struck a chord in her. Her head popped up from where it rested on his shoulder, a mortified look in her wide eyes. "Oh Lucien, I didn't even think! I'm so sorry!"

"What are you sorry for? I'm the one who still can't manage to come quietly," he teased in response.

She frowned and shifted to remove him from still being sheathed inside her. "I…I forgot that you've been an actual prisoner. That was horribly insensitive of me."

Lucien reached out for her with his still-constrained hands. "Darling, it's fine. It didn't even cross my mind. We were just having a bit of fun. Which I thoroughly enjoyed."

"I didn't make you uncomfortable?"

"Only with my level of arousal. I didn't realize I had such an adventurous wife!"

Jean blushed bright red. "I don't know what came over me," she said quietly.

"I think I did."

She met his eyes and saw the twinkle of innuendo. Jean scoffed and slapped his arm. But she laughed and kissed him softly. "You're sure I didn't overstep?"

"Not at all, Jean. Being subjected to your citizen's arrest is the most wonderful thing I think I've ever experienced."

"I'll try to think of more fun for us in the future."

"I've always said that you're smarter than me, my darling. I can't wait to see what you've got in store. But for now, do you think you could take the belt off my wrists? I didn't get to touch you the way I'd like. That, actually, was torture."

Jean chuckled and did as he asked. "I think perhaps we should take a bath and you can touch me all you want."

"And you'll sing to me?"

"I suppose you've earned that," she replied resignedly. After a moment's hesitation, Jean picked an old song she used to like on the radio and sang to him as they went to their bathroom.

The feather duster lay on the floor, utterly forgotten.


End file.
